


Stranger Beneath the Moonlight

by Azeran



Series: AU-ThorxJotun!Loki [3]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage AU, Figure skater AU (sort of), Jotun!Loki, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:37:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azeran/pseuds/Azeran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He was as a wraith, floating across the glossy surface on blades finer than any seen by warrior. Loki had always possessed an unusual grace different from everyone else, even his fellow Jotnar, but this was different. Thor could hardly help himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger Beneath the Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> I must thank one of my rp partners for this, because her Thor, and our ongoing rp, heavily inspired the way Loki and Thor interact in this. Couldn't have written it without 'em. Thank you dearie <3 Consider it dedicated to you. 
> 
> Also, I don't own Thor, or Loki, or any part of Marvel. I'd be ok with owning Tom Hiddleston, or Chris Hemsworth, buuuut...yeah, don't see that happening. Unfortunately. 
> 
> Pst. Also, this is my first Thorki fic. Yeah. Be gentle, leave comments/reviews/helpful criticism.

It was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He was as a wraith, floating across the glossy surface on blades finer than any seen by warrior, ghostly palms cupping the night air and reaching for the stars, shimmers of moonlight dancing between his fingers like chiffon streamers. They fluttered and weaved around him as he spun on the ice, his legs carrying him to the far end of the lake before Thor could even blink. Such elegance. Loki had always possessed an unusual grace different from everyone else, even his fellow Jotnar, but this was different. Where poise held his head proud and shoulders back as he walked in the day, a cold vision uncaring of the world around him, on skates it transformed to something magical. He glided, danced, kicked his leg into the air in a flash of silver and blue, a delicate creature performing to the midnight bower above their heads.

Thor could hardly help himself. He’d come with the intention of taking Loki back to the palace, chiding him for his lonely flight. Loki wasn’t supposed to venture off the grounds, and certainly not alone. But now…all he wanted was to watch the prince perform in suspected solitude. Taking a seat on a pile of snow shaded beneath frost studded leaves, he watched his intended consort skate, ignoring the chill seeping through his leather trousers. Suffering its bite was well worth the pleasure of this sight, and the cold didn't bother Loki anyway. Even as pale flakes began to fall from the heavens, he traveled across the lake in his own world, snow slowly collecting on his hair and glossy horns. The glitter of each tiny gem was ethereal to the eyes, and Thor's own followed the princeling as he glided with a billowing cloak of diamond dust cast over his shoulders, rippling gently on the wind. It was a fitting match to his lithe form, azure skinned and dark of hair, his irises a mysterious, rich shade of crimson that shimmered under their veil of silken onyx. 

He was a vision, incomparable to all others. Smiling wistfully, the prince cupped his cheek in a broad palm and allowed his gaze to wander, tracing the muscles in Loki’s calves and thighs as he spun about on the blades, his loincloth flapping softly in the breeze. Moon glow caught the delicate hems, turning their stitches to pure silver, fabric melding between opal green and dark hunter. A trick of the light. The Jotun always wore emerald, and it looked most comely against his faded sapphire flesh. Thor smiled. He’d been wearing it a day not so long ago on the brilliant Bifrost, their very first introduction. He remembered it well. Loki had been pushed upon him and pronounced future consort by both their fathers, Odin and Laufey. Silently regarding, he’d introduced himself with only a quiet murmur, dressed head to toe in gleaming silver and dusky fur. Thor had thought him stunning. But nothing could ever surpass the beauty he saw before him now. 

A low dip against the ice ensnared his attention once more, and Thor could only stare wondrously when Loki slid across the opaque surface on naked knee, his hair a river of gold and silver threaded sable as it flowed out behind him, capturing flecks of white. So graceful. It wasn’t the first time the prince had marveled at his luck, being engaged to such a ravishing creature, and it wouldn’t be the last. Loki wasn’t like his fellow race, not only for his diminished size or sharp, prettied features, made more so by the exotic markings lining his temples and cheeks, extending down the smooth column of his throat. He possessed an inner glow, waiting to thrive. Alone, on the ice, the chance was granted, and Loki shone bright as the stars. 

It was the first time Thor had ever seen his intended so blissfully…..content. At peace with that which surrounded him. Loki skated as if there was nothing else in the realm, only he and the frozen surface beneath his feet, rather like the ones of his own world. Nothing controlled him here. Not the wind, nor the snow, still wafting through the velvety skies. Left alone to his own devices, he relinquished the emotions locked away inside, and caved to their sweet call, displayed in soft smiles and confident grins. He gave everything he possessed to his skating, and the effect was sensational. To look away seemed sacrilegious, not that the thunderer would ever dream of doing so. Loki was too magnificent to ignore. 

Thor had to fight every instinct that told him to clap, offer applause as Loki jumped high in the air, and came down again with barely a sound, a pleased expression on his handsome face. These were the moments he lived for. This was how he wished to see his future lover, every day. Just like this. What would it take to keep that smile on his face, encourage a laugh from his cool blue lips? He knew painfully little about the Jotun prince. But he wanted to. Thor craved it more passionately than he had anything else his entire long life, and he ached to take that limber body into his arms, savoring this mystical gem of a trice. They were rare…he’d seen but a scarce few, since Loki’s arrival. One for each of the fingers on his left hand, and that was far less than what he desired. Yet such thoughts made him uncomfortable, for he had to consider that this was so because Loki was unhappy, dictated to remain in Asgard forever, his future set in unyielding ice. One day, he’d be wed to Thor. Become consort to the Aesir’s future king. The fate wasn’t an unpleasant one, but he’d be a fool if the thunderer didn’t acknowledge what it would mean for Loki. 

Never to return to Jotunheim. Not as the prince he once was. Never to claim his birthright, ruling the realm he’d long considered home. The throne that was rightfully his, as eldest, now passed to another son. Thor had barely been able to glean from Loki that he was Laufey’s firstborn, and should be heir, before the Jotun had silenced his questions with a soft kiss. He loved their kisses, and hadn’t protested, though now he wished he had. Watching the princeling dance on his silver skates, arms clutched close to his chest as he twirled with a breathy, silken swish, the realization hit him that things were just as he’d thought. What he knew of Loki were a paltry few details, and most were common facts discovered from close proximity. Thor could hand select what fruits he favored, for he saw them grace Loki’s plate every morn, or what silks he best preferred to wrap between his legs, around his hips. They were often strewn across the couch in his chambers, lengthy stretches of gold and copper embroidered fabrics. 

In light of his new discovery, the knowledge seemed cheapened. Frowning, Thor gazed out at the glistening lake, and the exotic prince who coiled into himself and then burst free in a flurry of gestures, spinning about and tilting his head back to the brilliant sky, soft rays of alabaster washing over him. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until Loki sank to his knees as a trembling mess and brushed back his hair, which had tumbled wayward over his shoulder in a messy skein. Everything around him glowed under the moon, and in the raw light he looked both unwaveringly steady, and so very frail. One touch might ruin the illusion, he feared. It was the least of his worries. 

He didn’t know his lover. For all the silly facts and tidbits Loki had given him, Thor truly didn’t know the man he was going to marry. This enchanting prince of ice, with his horns of ebony and patterned skin. Loki was very much a stranger beneath the moonlight, and the idea disquieted him. 

…..But, did it have to be this way? For all that they were strangers to one another, he knew things could change. He’d glimpsed it in those claret orbs. Loki yearned to belong, though he kept silent about such desires, behaving as if the world would crumble beneath his feet with one errant step. He put distance between himself and all others, the thunderer included, and Thor had had enough of it. There was a place for him here, and he not only referred to the gleaming gold of Asgard’s walls. Thor wanted to open his arms to the Jotun and kiss him speechless, coaxing from his silvered tongue not lies, or false pleasantries, for he wanted the thoughts in Loki’s head. In his heart. And he’d have them, were he given a chance. Even if the words he spoke were vicious, or cruel reminders of his predestined fate, Thor longed for their beauty. It would be honey to his ears. 

Perhaps, they could begin now. The snow brushed from his trousers and cloak, he approached the lake’s rim, his boots making trivial noise. Loki still sat on the ice in a pool of ghostly illumination, eyes firmly shut and lips parted, damp from a flick of his tongue across their cool swell, and Thor was careful not to shatter his concentration as he came to stand at the prince ling’s side, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “Loki. I would have words with you.” 

Only a flicker of a smile gave any indication that he’d heard, and Thor waited, patiently, until Loki’s eyes fluttered open and pierced his own. In the night, they resembled velvet, strangely warm and more alluring than any bare stretch of skin could ever be. “You came all this way to speak with me? In the dead of night, when the rest of your kingdom slumbers in their beds, warding the chill from their bones?” He laughed to himself, looking away. “How clandestine of you, Odinson.”

“You weren’t in our rooms. I worried.” Loki didn’t appear to be leaving his spot anytime soon, and Thor was loathe to go, now that he’d reached his decision to strengthen the bonds between them. Brushing his hand down cold flesh, he gently gripped a whorled forearm and turned the Jotun to face him. By the Norn, he was beautiful. Thor gazed upon his features with rapture, cupping Loki’s cheek in his free hand and languidly stroking his thumb up and down a thin line that ran from brow bone to the curve of his jaw. “It’s dangerous to wander about at night, alone. If you desired privacy, why didn’t you simply say so? I’d have escorted you here, and then left you be, once your safety was ensured.” He felt the twitch under his skin, those red eyes never wavering from his own stormy blue. In them, the prince saw much. Amusement, mockery. But what truly fascinated him was their soft gleam. Loki not only found humor in what he said. He considered it worthy of a smile, as if Thor were a child, speaking affectionate, if poorly realized, endearments. 

“It hardly matters. I’d scarcely arrived on the ice before you discovered me.” Glancing to the elegant pieces of metal strapped to the soft leather boots on his feet, Loki hummed. “Interesting creations, are they not? On Jotunheim, I’d but dance around barefoot, yet you Aesir seem to find these….skates, necessary. They are unusual, but a creative means to an end.” 

Whether or not he noticed Thor’s rapt attention fixed on his every word, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he picked himself up and casually moved a few steps to the right, then the left, a lazy circle skated around the prince as he watched, his hand falling away. This close, Thor saw how contentment was etched into every one of his markings, settling across his limbs like a warm bath. It pleased him. This was how the little Jotun should be. Every day of his life, for the rest of theirs together until Valhalla opened their mighty doors and welcomed them forth. “We have not your talent for suffering the cold, Loki. The blades protect our feet. Yet with or without them, you skate beautifully. I’ve never seen one so talented.” His praise was softened by a touch to Loki’s nape, and Thor held it more firmly when he made to glide away, pulling that lithe body into the nest of his arms, which wound around hips and a narrow waist, unbreakable, but tender. “Loki. For all that the sound of your voice pleases me, talk of footwear and icy prowess aren’t what I wish from you.” 

“Oh? And here I thought it was. My footwear, at least. You certainly couldn’t keep your eyes off my legs…or any part of me, for that matter.” Loki grinned at his embarrassed blush, and one of his trapped arms turned to press more firmly to the thunderer’s muscled stomach, notable even through his heavy tunic and cloak. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, Odinson, but next time you could simply ask to accompany me. Your company is hardly unwanted.” 

Thor’s frown appeared once more. “Then why the veil of secrecy?” He smoothed a palm over the Jotun’s back, up the narrow ridge of his spine. It was covered in a thin layer of powdered ice, luminescent as diamonds, and he swirled them across the cool flesh under his fingertips. “I’d proudly join your side, but I can hardly ask things of you when you’ve gone without a trace.” Loki confounded him. He spoke of his presence like it comforted him, yet vanished from their rooms like a spirit, leaving Thor to flounder as he sought him out, concerned for his would be consort. Asgard wasn’t dangerous, but Loki was of the Jotnar. Not all had forgiven them, and still thought ill of their culture. He was no fool. Optimistic, perhaps, but he understood that the princeling was only ever completely safe at his side, for now. 

“……Speak to me. If my actions were surreptitious, then yours were more so. You snuck away from our chambers to come here, and skated alone, with only the stars for company. Had I not discovered you missing, what would you have done?” Thor gripped him a little harder. Loki couldn’t leave Asgard, not without breaking the treaty their fathers had struck, but it didn’t squelch the nauseating sensation in his stomach. He wanted him to be happy here. Running off into the dark of night wasn’t a good way to start, when Thor would’ve joined him in his travels without a second thought. It‘s not as if the sight of his skating was unbearable. Quite the opposite. Thor adored watching him. It was more beautiful than any bard’s tale weaving, or dance of some endowed damsel. “Loki. I’d deny you nothing.” He reached his hand up and tucked a stray hair behind a perfect ear, stroking the cerulean whorl. “If only you’d share with me, tell me what it is you want….” 

Slender fingers toyed with the clasp and folds of his cloak. Thor was prepared to plead with him, beg for answers, but the prince silenced them before he could even open his mouth. “Clearly, there’s some misunderstanding at play here. You acted under the impression that I wanted solitude, from you and from Asgard, and out of fear for my welfare. But I was never in danger. Nor did I go to great lengths to mask my venture. Did you not discover my absence, soon after I’d gone?” Loki shook his head and smiled, prying himself free of the thunderer’s hold to sit on a snow bank and remove his skates, thin laces deftly unknotted and tied together. “You didn’t bother to hide yourself either. I knew you were watching me the entire time, you oaf. If I had really wanted a moment to myself, wouldn’t I have sent you away?“ Glancing to him, he chuckled. “When I crave privacy, I could have it, and easily, Odinson. You’d never know.” 

Thor pondered his words as he worked, playing them over and over in his head. He’d known the entire time? Yet he kept skating, allowing him leave to sit and admire….and what Loki claimed was true. It couldn’t have been but a few minutes after he’d vanished that his search had begun, and there were many places in Asgard that he might have gone to. There were other lakes, all frozen in winter’s embrace. Yet he’d chosen one closest to the palace. Nor did Thor doubt Loki’s ability to veil himself, if that was his ambition……

Clarity leisurely brightened his irises, and he gave the Jotun a brilliant smile. It wasn’t about secrecy, or privacy at all, was it? This was all but a ruse to see if his absence could go unnoticed, which Thor had markedly disproved. Loki was testing him, and he’d passed. “Clever minx. Do you enjoy these games?” He extended his hand to the brunette and aided him to his feet, taking the blades with their freshly knotted strings and slinging them over a burly shoulder. “I thank you for the show, Loki. But when you next choose to skate, will you do me the favor of at least bringing a cloak? The cold may not affect your flesh, but there’s nothing to spare your fine garments a damp chill.” Nor his eyes the sight of them, though silk clinging to Loki’s thighs was a sultry image. 

“Your concern for my clothes is touching, though a mite unsettling.” Leaving him there to watch his departing back, Loki all but waltzed across the ice on naked feet, snow falling in his wake and tumbling on the winds. He was heading in the direction of the palace, its gleaming spires towering in the starry sky. So caught up in the sway of his hips, the grace with which he moved and turned on his heel to look at Thor, the thunderer barely heard him speak. “I had thought your interests would lie more in the removal of them, rather than their state.” Loki batted his lashes, teasing. “Was I wrong, Thor?” 

Two thoughts ran through his head. The princeling was a temptress, and his wedded life to such a creature was going to be fascinating, if not enjoyable for them both. And secondly…..that was the first time he recalled Loki ever addressing him not as Odinson, but by first name alone. Thor’s chest bloomed with heat, inviting and rich, and he spanned the shore in hurried bursts to catch up with his fleeing consort. “You weren’t. Though I care for more than your clothes, Loki. In time, I trust you’ll come to realize that, and these games will be unnecessary.” Capturing his cool hand and squeezing gently, he rubbed his thumb across the swell of tattooed knuckles. Each design was unique, in its own right, and in time Thor hoped to know each one as intimately as he knew his own body. For now, he was simply content knowing that despite Loki’s trickery, his secretive actions, it was all done to better secure their relationship. 

As he’d suspected. Loki cared about him, at the very least, enough to test his faith and concern. He was also comfortable enough with him to let the Asgardian watch him skate, a lovely, precious act from his home world, which none other had had the chance to experience, save him. Thor beamed. It was a small development, and he cherished it. Loki was a mystery still, but piece by piece, the stranger would disappear, and in his place would be a prince, his intended, the future co-ruler of Asgard. His husband. How he looked forward to it.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Once Upon A Winter Prince/ My Ice Dancer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3407243) by [JaneDoe876](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneDoe876/pseuds/JaneDoe876)




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